


A Regular Decorated Emergency

by silver_etoile



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 12:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13271187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_etoile/pseuds/silver_etoile
Summary: Every day, Arthur drives to work the same way, and every day, he sees the man with the ugly scarf at the intersection. He's never talked to him, but a hit and run accident changes everything Arthur thinks he knows about life and dating.





	A Regular Decorated Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that jaffa cakes are officially recognized as cakes in the UK, but they are alternately referred to as both biscuits and cakes in this fic. Also, I def stole this prompt from a tumblr post. You can find me on [tumblr here.](http://believenthlie.tumblr.com/)

Arthur didn’t particularly enjoy the commute into the city, the radio rambling on about the prime minister in the background as he slowed down yet again, but the one thing it did afford him was a glimpse of _him_ every morning.

Arthur didn’t know his name, and in his head, he referred to him as The Man with the Ugly Scarf for it truly was a hideous scarf, the most hideous perhaps that Arthur had ever laid eyes on.

Every morning, round about ten to eight, Arthur passed the man as he waited for the light. Sometimes, Arthur had the advantage of catching the light and letting his gaze linger a little longer on the man’s tight black jeans, worn motorcycle jacket (though Arthur suspected the man had never ridden a motorcycle in his life), the way he barely lifted his head from his phone, as a proper pedestrian should do in London traffic. He was always texting or scrolling through something, probably Facebook or whatever other social media was popular. Arthur didn’t keep up.

He had to be new to the city, Arthur always thought, since he couldn’t remember seeing him before a few months ago. Of course they’d never spoken, and Arthur was fairly sure the man had no idea he existed except as a passing car.

Today was no exception to the man’s presence as Arthur turned the corner, coming up on the light. There he was, waiting at the light, head tilted down towards his phone, fingers typing quickly. He never glanced up at Arthur or any of the cars sitting ahead of him.

The car in front of Arthur inched forward impatiently, as though that might tempt the light to change faster. Arthur didn’t mind, watching the man frown at something on his phone. He couldn’t be that old, maybe mid-twenties. Not that Arthur was getting any ideas. He had never even spoken to the man with the worst scarf in the world. It looked to be hand-knitted, brown and red and green, like a mish-mash of Christmas gone wrong. It had little dangling ends that the man never tucked into his jacket, wrapping it up around his face when it was too cold out.

Arthur was so busy contemplating where anyone would get a scarf like that (and _why_ they would deem to wear it) that he almost didn’t notice the car in front of him jolt forward as the turn signal came on. The squealing of brakes and a thud cutting through Arthur’s babbling radio caught his attention.

The car in front of him backed up like a whip, the tires squealing as it took off around the man now lying on the pavement.

“Holy shit,” Arthur heard himself say, shoving the car into park, fingers fumbling for the handle, yanking his door open.

The man, Arthur’s man with the ugly sweater lay on the ground, seemingly trying to push himself up as Arthur reached him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, staring around but the car had disappeared. Other drivers were starting to get out now as well, unsure what to do.

“Jesus Christ, my leg,” the man moaned, grimacing in pain as he tried to move it.

“Don’t move,” Arthur said firmly, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

The man glanced up at him, big blue eyes wide and scared, but he quirked a smile. “Thanks.”

Ignoring the idiotic flutter in his chest, Arthur looked away and dialed the emergency number.

*

“You’re late,” Morgana sing-songed as Arthur stepped into the break room. He was in desperate need of coffee this morning.

Morgana was currently holding the pot hostage, though, as Arthur grabbed a mug from the cupboard.

“You would not believe what happened this morning,” Arthur replied, and he hated the way her eyes lighted up.

“You finally let Cenred take you home and work out all that tension?”

“Disgusting. No.”

Morgana rolled her eyes and handed over the pot as Arthur reached for it. “He’s not that bad.”

“Just because you would sleep with him doesn’t mean I would.”

She shrugged, flipping her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “So what happened that was so interesting that you missed Leon’s presentation on mortgage rates? It was riveting, by the way.”

Arthur was sure she’d spent the whole time texting Gwen instead of listening to a word Leon said.

“I was witness to a hit and run,” he told her, filling his mug and adding too much sugar. Sipping his coffee, he leaned back against the counter.

Their office was reasonably small compared to some of the other realtors he knew. He preferred it that way, though, with only a few employees, easier to manage, easier to keep track of things. It wasn’t the real estate empire his father had envisioned, but he supposed Uther would roll over in his grave to know he and Morgana had managed to reconcile their differences after his death.

“How terrible,” Morgana said, without the emotional inflection someone like Gwen might have had. “Did the police catch them?”

“I told them what I saw,” Arthur said with a shrug. “I called an ambulance.”

Morgana paused, watching him with a crease to her forehead. “And the person who was hit?”

“They took him to the hospital.”

Arthur still didn’t know his name, or anything about the man except that he had unbelievably pretty eyes.

“You know what Gwen would say if she were here,” Morgana said, sweeping Arthur’s empty sugar packets off the counter and into the trash.

Arthur knew exactly what Gwen would do if she were in his position. She would probably show up at the hospital with a basket of freshly-baked muffins, a handmade card, and flowers picked from her personal garden.

“I don’t even know his name,” Arthur pointed out. He couldn’t just show up at the hospital and ask to visit the man with the ugly scarf.

“Do you _want_ to know his name?” Morgana asked, flashing him a knowing look.

It was unfair how much Morgana could tell about him simply by looking. Growing up, they’d always had a friendly but antagonistic relationship, and now, it was more friendly than antagonistic, but she could still push his buttons. She could still read him like no one else.

“He’s just a stranger,” Arthur said even though he’d spent the last few months looking forward to seeing him every day at the corner.

As much as Arthur complained about men and dating and how everyone he seemed to date turned out to be an idiot, he kept hoping that maybe the next time… It was stupid to think. Arthur had had his share of terrible relationship and he wasn’t keen to have another.

Still, he had helped the man today, had actually spoken to him, although in not the most ideal situation.

“Mm hmm,” Morgana hummed easily, as though she didn’t believe him at all. “You should go see how he’s doing. You saved his life, after all.”

“I called an ambulance.”

“Which was very chivalrous of you.”

“They probably wouldn’t even let me see him considering I don’t know who he is.”

“What hospital did they take him to?” Morgana asked, and Arthur hesitated to answer that, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

“St. Bart’s.”

Morgana smiled—more of a smirk, really. “You could always ask Gwaine.”

Arthur shook his head, grabbing his mug and heading for his office. He was not going to ask Gwaine anything. And that was that.

*

“So what exactly do I get out of this?” Gwaine asked, lounging against the side of the building, the sleeves of his scrubs pushed up to his elbows.

Arthur grimaced to himself. He knew he shouldn’t have texted Gwaine. “Aside from the obvious glee you’re getting from withholding this information?”

Gwaine grinned and flipped his shiny hair away from his face. “Yeah, aside from that.”

“What do you want?” Arthur asked. He still had no idea how Gwaine’s mind worked, even after a month of fucking him.

Gwaine dropped his arms from where they were folded over his chest. “I want you to tell Percy to go out with me.”

“Excuse me?” This had been a terrible idea. Why had Morgana suggested it? Because she loved to see him suffer.

It wasn’t that Arthur didn’t like Gwaine. They had, after all, dated, for lack of a better word for that brief period of time. Gwaine just didn’t make any sense to Arthur. He spent twelve hours a day working as a nurse and the other twelve hours partying or fucking his brains out when he could get it.

“Percy,” Gwaine repeated, as though maybe Arthur hadn’t heard him over the rush of traffic from the road. “He won’t go out with me because of some mate’s code about not dating your friend’s exes.”

“That’s called respect,” Arthur offered, but Gwaine rolled his eyes.

“We barely dated,” he pointed out, and it was true. “A couple fucks and that was it.”

Arthur didn’t even want to know why Gwaine wanted to date Percy, of all people. He didn’t want to know anything about Gwaine’s sex life, not that that stopped Gwaine from telling him ever.

“Alright, fine,” he said at length. “I will talk to Percy.”

Gwaine’s grin returned. “Cheers, mate. Kid’s name is Merlin, room 214. Not a bad specimen either.” He winked at Arthur as he turned from the wall and headed for the door.

Arthur let Gwaine disappear inside the Employees Only door before heading for the front.

He hadn’t brought a card or flowers or homemade biscuits, but Arthur didn’t even know the guy. It was probably weird enough that he was here at all.

Inside, Arthur bypassed the woman at the front desk, slipping down the corridor of rooms until he found 214.

He wasn’t sure if he should knock or what exactly the protocol was, so he knocked on the door as he pushed it open, stepping inside the sterile hospital room. The first thing he saw was the man, Merlin, sitting up in a hospital bed. His clothes had been exchanged for a hospital gown, unflattering and pale. His leg wasn’t in a cast, but set with temporary bonds.

Merlin looked surprised as Arthur stepped in. “Hi.”

Arthur told himself firmly to stop fidgeting with the hem of his coat, clearing his throat. “Hello.”

Not exactly riveting conversation, but words nonetheless.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” Merlin said with a smile as Arthur stepped up to his bed. He looked smaller now, but everyone seemed to in hospitals. Arthur was struck with the thought that the last time he’d been in a hospital, Uther had been on his last leg.

There were no cards on Merlin’s table, no flowers, no biscuits. No one was hovering around anxiously outside his door, and Arthur wondered why not.

“So how’s, I mean, how are you doing?” he asked because apparently he couldn’t get his tongue and brain to work together today.

Merlin shrugged. “As well as can be, I guess. I’m not dead, so that’s a plus. I guess I’m going to need surgery, though, so I’ll be here a couple days.”

Arthur still hovered awkwardly next to the bed, feeling overdressed in his suit and tie. Of course, anyone would feel overdressed next to someone wearing only a paper-thin gown.

“Is anyone coming?” he asked, hoping it sounded less stilted than it did in his head.

To his surprise, Merlin grimaced. “See, when I got hit by the car, I dropped my phone…” He glanced to the side table where a very smashed version of his phone sat. “And I, um, I don’t have any numbers memorized.”

“Not even your parents?” Arthur asked, taking the chair next to Merlin’s bed finally.

“Yeah,” Merlin said with another ashamed grimace. “I’m a bad son. In my defense, though, my mum’s only had a cell phone for a few years and she just got rid of the home phone. So, you know, I can’t technically be blamed for not having it memorized. Right?”

Arthur smiled as Merlin was quick to defend himself.

“Besides,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “She’s too far away to come down and she has work. And it’s just a couple broken bones and a fractured kneecap.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know enough about Merlin to tell if he was making light of it for his own benefit.

Silence fell for a minute, the clock on the wall ticking loudly as Arthur cast around for something to say.

He wasn’t good at _this_. Talking to people he didn’t know. It was easier in the business world, making small talk, pretending to be interested in people’s lives. It wasn’t so easy when faced with a stranger he’d been watching for three months.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said finally, frowning slightly. “What was your name?”

“Arthur,” Arthur said quickly, putting out a hand instinctively. Merlin seemed to smile, amused, as he shook it. “Arthur Pendragon.”

“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” Merlin said, and Arthur liked the way it rolled off his tongue. “I’m Merlin Emrys. I guess I should thank you for stopping this morning.”

“You already did,” Arthur pointed out, and Merlin made a face.

“But I was in a lot of pain then. Now I’ve got medication.”

“The cure-all,” Arthur said, and Merlin laughed.

Arthur liked when Merlin laughed. In fact, he liked a lot about Merlin, but he didn’t say as much as he leaned back in his chair while Merlin extolled the virtues of medication.

*

The pub was loud tonight, glasses clinking, people laughing, shouting over the music. Arthur shook his head, trying to rid himself of the constant thoughts of Merlin swirling in his brain.

“Anyone for another pint?” Leon asked, interrupting Arthur’s internal monologue telling him to stop thinking about Merlin.

Percy nodded beside Arthur and Leon got up to flag down a bartender.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Percy commented as Leon disappeared into the crowd.

Arthur glanced at Percy, his conversation with Gwaine coming to mind. “Percy, do you fancy Gwaine?”

Percy’s eyes seemed to widen just slightly, and he shook his head. “No, not at all. Why do you ask?”

Arthur shifted closer, lowering his voice. “It’s fine. Just tell me the truth.”

Percy hesitated, twisting his beer mug around in his hands. “He’s asked me out, but I’ve always said no.” He said it as though to reassure Arthur, but Arthur didn’t care about Gwaine and Percy.

“You can date him if you want,” he said. “That’s not why I’m asking. In fact, please go out with him so I will never have to talk to him about it again.”

Percy blinked, confused. Arthur knew he wasn’t making much sense.

“Just tell me why you like him,” he said simply.

“Why I like Gwaine?” Percy asked, as though still confused. When Arthur didn’t respond, he shrugged. “He’s funny. And good-looking, of course. And, I don’t know, I like how I feel when he’s around.”

Arthur had never felt anything other than himself with Gwaine around, that and slightly annoyed all the time. It had been like that with the last few people he’d dated. If he hadn’t felt nothing, he’d felt like maybe it was going somewhere, only for it to end abruptly and usually unpleasantly.

Arthur was beginning to understand people who were celibate by choice.

“How do you feel?” Arthur asked curiously, but Percy only laughed.

“I don’t know. I can’t really explain it. I haven’t spent that much time with him alone. It just feels like maybe he understands me.”

“Gwaine?” Arthur said flatly. He wasn’t sure Gwaine understood much aside from giving shots and doing shots.

“Yeah, Gwaine,” Percy replied with a smile, and Arthur wanted to probe more but Leon returned with three more pints and the conversation turned to Britain’s chances in the world cup.

*

Arthur had a mountain of paperwork he’d ignored the day before, piling up on his desk, as unappealing as the tea someone had set by his computer monitor.

As welcome as a distraction might have been, he would have preferred it to be something other than Morgana plopping a basket down on top of his pile as she strode inside.

“What is that?” he asked, barely glancing up.

“I told Gwen all about your exciting day yesterday,” Morgana said instead of answering his question. Arthur felt his heart sink. “She thought it was just terrible someone would run someone over and not even have the decency to stop.”

“Morgana,” Arthur tried to interrupt, but she could not be interrupted.

“So Gwen just insisted on whipping something up for you to bring to him.”

“I’m not going back,” Arthur said, not even bothering to peek inside the basket to see what Gwen had ‘whipped up.’

“And why not?” Morgana asked, leaning on his desk, crumpling his papers there.

“Because I have no reason to.”

“Of course you do,” she said, shoving the basket under his nose. “Gwen will be very disappointed if these aren’t delivered.”

Arthur had made up his mind already. He’d seen Merlin; he’d felt the unexplainable pull that happened every time Merlin smiled, and he wasn’t going to let himself make the same mistake again. He’d had too many bad relationships lately to let himself fall for a pretty face and a dry sense of humor.

“Why do you care if I see Merlin again?”

“Merlin,” she repeated with a thoughtful look. “Arthur, I simply have your best interests at heart.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at that and she rolled her eyes.

“Fine. I like when you’re out of the office. I get to plot your overthrow.”

Arthur didn’t reply, tilting his head to the side, unamused.

“Or, you know, it’s good for you to get out. Meet new people. Stop thinking about all your terrible break-ups. Are you sure you’re not cursed?”

“Thank you, Morgana,” he said with a wave of his hand. He sighed, gazing at the basket. “What did Gwen make?”

“Jaffa cakes.”

“Jaffa cakes?” he repeated, deadpan. “You can buy those at any supermarket.”

“Not homemade with extra chocolate and a little bit of love.”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose as Morgana sneaked one from the basket and turned for the door.

“Those better not be here by the time I get back from lunch,” she said, closing the door behind her.

Sighing, Arthur moved the basket from the top of his pile. He guessed he had a reason to visit Merlin one more time.

*

Merlin was flipping through the channels on the tiny TV in the corner when Arthur arrived, looking bored out of his mind, but he immediately brightened as Arthur stepped in. Arthur tamped down the tiny thrill echoing through his chest at Merlin’s bright smile.

“Morning,” Merlin greeted him easily, as if they’d known each other more than a day.

“I brought biscuits,” Arthur said, offering the basket.

“Ooh.” Merlin glanced inside, eyes widening. “Are these homemade?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, but quickly added, “but not by me. My friend, Gwen, heard about what happened, and honestly, she should just go on Great British Bake Off and get it over with.”

Merlin smiled again, taking out a jaffa cake. “That was nice of her. So you don’t bake, then?”

Arthur smiled slightly as he took the chair next to Merlin. Merlin looked better today, a little more color in his cheeks. “I’m lucky if I even get out plates for the take-out.”

“Ah, you’re one of those blokes,” Merlin said, munching on a cake.

“One of what blokes?”

“The kind who need someone to take care of them.”

Arthur scoffed. “I take care of myself perfectly well. We live in a time where you don’t have to know how to cook to get food.”

“What if you wanted to impress a date?” Merlin asked, eyebrows raised. “How would you do that without cooking a lovely meal?”

Arthur had never had a date he wanted to impress that way. Immediately, his mind went to Merlin lounging around his flat on the outskirts of London, admiring the view from the balcony, sipping wine, their eyes meeting across the kitchen island…

Shaking himself out of it, Arthur looked away from Merlin. “I suppose I’d need someone to impress first.” He caught Merlin smiling out of the corner of his eye. “Have you gotten in touch with your mum yet?” he asked, changing the subject.

Merlin sighed. “That would require a phone, and I can’t get one of those until I can actually get out of here, and they’ve pushed the surgery back to Thursday now, so it’ll be a few more days.”

“Give me your number,” Arthur said abruptly, pulling out his phone, and Merlin seemed surprised.

“Why? So you can text me while you’re at whatever fancy job you have that requires you to wear Armani suits?”

“This isn’t Armani,” Arthur said, ignoring the jump in his stomach at the thought of texting Merlin while he was supposed to be doing other things. “I need your number so I can get you a new phone.”

Merlin’s joking smile faded at Arthur’s words. “You really don’t have to.”

“It’s not a problem,” Arthur assured him. He met Merlin’s eyes for a second but looked away as Merlin gave him his phone number.

“So where do you work?” Merlin asked as Arthur tucked his phone away.

“It’s called the Pendragon Investment Group, but it’s really just a fancy name for a real estate brokerage firm.”

“Impressive.”

Arthur shook his head. “It’s not, really. What about you? You haven’t been in town long.”

Merlin glanced up at him. “How’d you know that?”

Cursing himself, Arthur looked away, out the window. It was a chilly day, wind blustering the trees about below. “I’ve seen you, you know, in the mornings, before.”

“Really?” Merlin asked, sounding pleased.

“Yeah. Seven-fifty, at the same crosswalk every day.”

“Hm,” Merlin said, but not much more. Arthur wasn’t sure what it meant, if Merlin thought he was a weird stalker now who knew his routine. But it was Arthur’s routine too.

“Where are you going, then, every day at eight in the morning?” Arthur asked because well, he was already in it. He might as well get some questions answered.

“Usually to class, or to work,” Merlin answered, and Arthur frowned slightly. How old was Merlin exactly? He didn’t look as if he’d still be in Uni.

“Class?” Arthur asked gently, and Merlin nodded.

“I’m getting my PhD in history,” he said, and Arthur felt a breath of relief. So he wasn’t eighteen or something ridiculous. The last thing Arthur needed was to fall for someone ten years younger. “So I can become a weird old history professor with frizzy hair and glasses. The works.”

“You’d look good with glasses,” Arthur said before he could stop himself.

Merlin smiled easily. “I do have them. I just usually wear contacts.”

Arthur had to stop himself picturing Merlin in glasses, with his dark hair and sharp cheekbones. Glasses and nothing else… Swallowing, he took a second to take control of his thoughts. It was a good thing he’d never seen Merlin in glasses before or he may not have waited until he was hit by a car to talk to him.

Silence fell between them, broken only by the television in the corner, forgotten on some comedy show Arthur didn’t know.

“I should be getting back to work,” Arthur said finally, glancing at the clock. His lunch hour was long over and he was sure Morgana would want to know if he’d delivered the cakes.

“Okay,” Merlin said simply, and Arthur wasn’t sure what else to say. “So I’ll see you later, maybe?” he said as Arthur reached the door.

Pausing, Arthur turned back, eyes grazing over Merlin on the bed, his hopeful gaze, teeth worrying his bottom lip as he waited for Arthur’s response.

“Yeah, later,” Arthur said, turning away from Merlin’s smile and pausing a minute outside the door to gather himself. He had to keep control of the situation. He had to keep control of himself.

He could do that. Completely. He could do that.

*

“No one’s come to visit him?” Gwen asked, sounding affronted as she set the salad on the table. “How sad! Doesn’t he have any family? Any friends?”

Morgana was working on her second glass of wine already, watching Arthur over the rim with an unnerving amount of concentration. The small table was set for three, stuffed inside Morgana and Gwen’s tiny flat.

“He hasn’t been able to call his mother because he hasn’t had a phone, and I don’t think he’s lived in town long so he probably doesn’t know very many people.” Arthur didn’t mention that he’d dropped off a new phone after work, that he and Merlin had ended up talking for almost an hour before a nurse kicked him out.

“Well, at least you’re visiting him,” Gwen said, returning with the roast and handing Arthur the carving knife. “I’d hate to think of him all alone in a hospital. It’s always so cold in there.”

“He’s fine, though,” Arthur said, cutting up the roast for Gwen. “They’ve set his leg and they’re doing surgery on his knee.”

“How awful.” Gwen made a face and poured Morgana another glass of wine. She took her seat next to Arthur.

“Arthur’s been very attentive,” Morgana said, swirling her glass.

“That’s so sweet of you,” Gwen said, touching Arthur’s arm gently.

Arthur was more concerned with the way Morgana was smirking, as though she knew something he didn’t.

“What does this Merlin look like anyway?” she asked, and Arthur frowned.

“I don’t know. Skinny, black hair. Tall.”

“Is he cute?” Gwen asked because of course Gwen would ask.

“He’s not ugly,” Arthur allowed, ignoring Morgana’s laugh under her breath.

“So do you think you two will…” Gwen asked with a suggestive raise to her eyebrows.

“No,” Arthur said sharply. “I’m not interested in dating anyone. Not after last time.”

“Oh, Valiant was a dick. We all know that,” Morgana said dismissively. “He wasn’t even out. You can’t date someone in the closet and expect it to end well.”

Arthur knew she had a point but he didn’t like hearing it. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m not on the market.”

“You shouldn’t reject someone just because you’re afraid of what might happen,” Morgana said, sipping her wine. “Besides, I want to see if you can go ten for ten.”

“Morgana,” Gwen reprimanded her with a frown.

She was right, though. Arthur had not had good luck with anyone he’d dated the past couple years. Valiant had been closeted and ended up cheating on Arthur with a woman. He and Gwaine had fallen apart when he’d realized Gwaine was only in it for sex (not that the sex hadn’t been good but still). Gilly had been an all-around bore who only managed to make Arthur feel bad for breaking it off. No. Arthur was done with terrible break-ups.

“I’m not going to date Merlin,” Arthur said firmly, and Gwen reached for his arm.

“I think it’s great that you’re visiting Merlin, no matter what happens. He needs someone right now and he’s lucky it’s you.”

Arthur patted her hand but didn’t reply. Morgana merely rolled her eyes and grabbed her fork.

*

The day seemed cheerier than the last few as Arthur entered the hospital. The sun had come out this morning, reflecting off the patches of ice on the road, the sky a bright blue, peppered with white clouds. Arthur supposed he should feel more put-off by his unexplainable good mood, but for once, he didn’t let himself dwell on it.

Rounding the corner to the hall filled with doors, Arthur paused as he heard a voice inside Merlin’s room.

“I’m fine, really,” Merlin said, sounding as though he’d already said the same phrase ten times. “Mum, no, listen—”

Arthur took a step back from the door. He really shouldn’t be listening in to Merlin’s private conversations, but he couldn’t linger awkwardly in the hall for long.

“—You can’t afford to take off work and come down here. It’s a routine surgery—yes, routine for eighty year-olds but getting hit by a car ages you a bit.”

Arthur caught himself smiling at Merlin’s humor. Getting hit by a car shouldn’t be funny.

“I know, I know,” Merlin said, sighing. “But I couldn’t do what I wanted there. I’ll be more careful in the future crossing streets. Look, I’ll call you after the surgery. Don’t worry. Just promise me you won’t spend all your money on a train ticket down here, okay? Mum, Mu-um. Promise.”

Arthur heard Merlin sigh again and mutter, “Yeah, you too. Bye.”

Arthur pushed open the door as Merlin poked at his phone and set it on the table by the bed. Merlin smiled at Arthur, though, as though he hadn’t just been arguing with his mother.

“You’re early,” Merlin said, like they had any sort of schedule for this.

“Just thought I’d drop by before the surgery,” Arthur said, draping his coat over the chair.

“You sound as worried as my mum,” Merlin said and Arthur frowned. 

“I’m not worried.”

“And here I thought you were concerned for my well-being,” Merlin replied, shifting his leg in its sling.

“I did call the ambulance,” Arthur reminded him, and Merlin nodded.

“True, though I’m sure someone else would have done it eventually,” Merlin said, sweeping his hair to the side. “Either that or Londoners really are as cold and unfeeling as the rumors say.”

“Why’d you come here if that’s the rumor?”

“Couldn’t exactly get an advanced degree in Ealdor,” Merlin said with a shrug. “Plus it’s a tiny town, everyone knows everyone there. I just wanted to get away, you know, try something new. I always wanted to live in London.”

“Has it lived up to your expectations?” Arthur had no idea where Ealdor was. He’d never even heard of it.

Merlin paused, thinking. “I probably would not have been hit by a car in Ealdor, but I also wouldn’t have met you there.”

Arthur wished Merlin wouldn’t say things like that. It made his heart do somersaults against his better judgment.

“Do you want anything before you surgery?” Arthur asked, clearing his throat, changing the subject. “Tea?”

Merlin smiled and nodded. “Tea would be nice.”

“I’ll go find some.”

Arthur stood abruptly, leaving the room before he could do something stupid like tell Merlin he was glad he’d moved to London. He wasn’t going to get involved with Merlin, he told himself firmly as he wandered the halls. There had to be tea somewhere in this hospital.

It took longer than Arthur intended to find somewhere to get a cup of tea, and he wasn’t sure what kind Merlin preferred, so he ended up with several varieties as he made his way back to Merlin’s room.

There were voices inside again as he returned and Arthur hoped it wasn’t Merlin’s mum again, but it sounded like two people this time. Could someone have finally come to visit Merlin?

Stepping inside, Arthur wasn’t sure if he was relieved or annoyed to find Gwaine standing next to Merlin’s bed.

Gwaine grinned at Arthur as he entered and set the steaming cup on the table.

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked bluntly, ignoring the way Merlin glanced at him.

“Prepping my favorite patient for surgery,” Gwaine said, tapping the chart in his hand.

“You know each other?” Merlin asked, glancing between them. Gwaine merely chuckled as Arthur stiffened slightly.

“We, uh, dated,” he said finally.

“Briefly,” Gwaine added.

“Very briefly.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, nose wrinkling slightly.

“So the surgery is pretty routine,” Gwaine said, ignoring or oblivious to the awkward tension in the room. “Knee surgery isn’t complicated but recuperation time can be long, so you’ll be out of commission for a couple months at least. I hope your flat’s not a walk-up.”

“It’s not, thank god,” Merlin replied, eyes darting to Arthur, who was merely frowning at Gwaine.

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him that Gwaine was so friendly to Merlin, that he simply acted as if their former relationship meant nothing. Maybe it did to Gwaine considering Gwaine hadn’t seemed too broken up about ending it.

“You’ll also need physical therapy,” Gwaine went on, scribbling something on the chart. “And no strenuous physical activity for at least a few weeks.” He winked at Merlin and Arthur could swear Merlin blushed. Gwaine turned to Arthur. “You staying for the festivities?”

Arthur hesitated as all eyes turned toward him. “I really have a lot of work to catch up on,” he said, but paused as he looked at Merlin. Merlin had looked away, fiddling with his phone. There were already fingerprints all over the screen. “But I guess I could catch up on emails here.”

Merlin’s head came up, and Gwaine grinned.

“Of course you could.” Gwaine slapped his shoulder. “Alright, Merlin, you ready to become a half a Bionic man?”

“More like one point four percent,” Merlin said, and Gwaine laughed.

“You know, patients shouldn’t be better at math than me,” he said as he rolled up the transport bed and helped Merlin haul himself onto it.

Gwaine rolled Merlin past Arthur, towards the door, and Arthur took a step forward.

“It’ll be fine,” he assured Merlin, and Merlin let out a breath.

“Yeah,” he agreed, but he didn’t look one hundred percent sure in his answer.

“Let’s go see the wizard,” Gwaine said, pushing open the door and following the yellow stripe on the floor. Arthur watched until they disappeared through another set of swinging doors. Turning from the hall, he sighed, his eyes falling on Merlin’s phone sitting on the table.

He checked no one was coming back before taking his chair next to the now empty bed and reaching for Merlin’s phone and unlocking it.

*

“Should I just be forwarding all your mail to the hospital?” Morgana asked on the other end of the phone and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Wasn’t it you who insisted I help Merlin through this?” Arthur glanced at the clock on the wall. It seemed to be moving incredibly slowly, as if each tick of the hand was an eternity. He wondered how much longer this surgery would take.

“I didn’t mean move in,” Morgana pointed out. “Though while you’re in that part of town, could you pick up a dozen or so macarons from the French bakery around the corner?”

“I’m not here to buy French deserts.”

“I know,” she said, tone sarcastic. “You’re there to convince yourself that you don’t fancy this Merlin despite the fact that you’ve gone to see him every day this week.”

Arthur could only scoff in response. He had no argument for that.

“So you’ll bring me the macarons?”

“Morgana,” Arthur said flatly, but his attention was caught by movement outside the door and Gwaine and another nurse entered, pushing Merlin in the bed. “I have to go.”

“Tell Merlin to get well from me and Gwen.”

Arthur ignored that, hanging up and standing as Gwaine wheeled the bed up.

“He’s a bit out of it,” Gwaine said as he and the other nurse slid Merlin over to the first bed and rearranged his leg. It was in a cast now with a metal skeleton encasing the whole thing. “Lots of meds. So don’t go making any grand declarations as he probably won’t remember.”

Arthur glared at Gwaine. “I wasn’t going to.”

The other nurse left but Gwaine lingered. Arthur’s gaze was on Merlin, his face pale again, his eyes closed like maybe he was asleep, though Arthur suspected he was still under the affects of the anesthesia.

“I think he likes you,” Gwaine said, apropos of nothing.

“What makes you say that?” Arthur asked, shoving down the excited jerk in his stomach. It didn’t matter what Merlin thought of him.

“He talks about you,” Gwaine replied, watching Merlin. “The man who comes to visit, the stranger who stopped on the street for him. He called you fit.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “He did?”

“Okay, I did,” Gwaine admitted. “And he didn’t disagree.”

Arthur sighed. “Why are you even talking to him about this?”

Gwaine frowned slightly. “I’m a nurse. He’s my patient. It’s my job to make them feel okay, like being here isn’t a death sentence.”

Arthur had never considered that Gwaine could use his charm that way, that that was the reason the little old ladies with walkers that came in loved to talk to him. He’d simply assumed it was because he was good-looking.

“Gwaine, I think I owe you an apology,” Arthur said after a minute, and Gwaine arched an eyebrow.

“What for?”

“I always kind of assumed you were a bit of a…”

“Knob?”

“No,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “It’s just, you never seem to take anything seriously. I thought all your charm was just so you could get laid, that you didn’t really care about people’s feelings.”

Gwaine tilted his head to the side. “Is this because we fucked around and never got serious? I didn’t know that was what you wanted when we started, or I probably would never have done it. I like you better as a mate than a fuck anyway.”

“Mates?” Arthur hesitated to say they were considering what that might entail in the future. He’d never managed to become friends with any of his exes before.

“Yeah.” Gwaine grinned. “Now that Percy finally agreed to go out with me, I’ll probably be seeing you a lot more. We gotta get over this thing so we can get sloshed together, and if Percy and me don’t work out, I’ll need someone to whine to.”

Arthur wasn’t sure if he looked forward to that, but he couldn’t say he didn’t feel a bit of relief to know he and Gwaine could actually be friends.

“Don’t you have other friends for that?”

“Sure, but Merlin doesn’t know Percy yet.”

Arthur glanced at Merlin asleep on the bed. “So you’re friends with Merlin now?”

Gwaine nodded. “Poor kid has lived here three months and doesn’t have any mates. He needs someone to take him under his wing in the big city. Show him the good pubs, the places to get takeout at three in the morning, help him navigate the tube so he doesn’t get run over by a car again.”

“And that’s you?”

“I’m a great friend, Arthur,” Gwaine said, wheeling the bed back towards the door. “As you’ll soon find out. In the meantime, I’ll let you look after him. Remember what I said. He probably won’t remember much of this tomorrow.”

Gwaine left and Arthur was left alone with Merlin. He wondered if he should even stay. He did have a ton of work to get back to, but looking at Merlin’s face, soft and serene, he couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet.

Instead, he sat back down in the uncomfortable chair. Why hospitals were always so uncomfortable was beyond him.

“Arthurrr?” Merlin mumbled after a few minutes, eyes fluttering open, blinking in the bright light overhead.

“Hi,” Arthur said gently as Merlin’s head rolled towards him.

“I’m okay?” Merlin asked and Arthur couldn’t help his brief smile.

“You’re fine.”

“Good,” Merlin agreed, sighing long and loud. He squinted at the light. “’M glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?”

“Hospital’s a terrible place to be alone.”

Arthur nodded, unable to stop himself from taking Merlin’s hand as Merlin reached for him. He wouldn’t remember this, Arthur assured himself. But Arthur would. Merlin’s hand was soft, a little cold, and his fingers curled over Arthur’s palm.

“You’ll be home soon,” Arthur said as Merlin closed his eyes again.

“Still alone, though,” Merlin muttered, and Arthur didn’t have an answer for that.

Merlin didn’t seem to need an answer, his breathing evening out again as he fell asleep. Arthur didn’t pull his hand away, not right away, sitting there with Merlin, half wishing he’d never stopped that day, and half wishing he’d done it sooner.

*

Arthur opened the front door to Gwen holding what looked like some kind of pie.

“You know, I moved out here so you couldn’t do this anymore,” he said, letting her in anyway.

“Maybe you should move back in,” Gwen said simply. “So I wouldn’t have to change trains three times and take an Uber.” She set the pie on the counter and turned to Arthur.

“That should be a deterrent,” Arthur pointed out, but he knew better than to argue with Gwen when she brought food over. She tended to do that when she was worried about him.

“I don’t know why you moved out here anyway,” she said, wandering into the large sitting room and gazing out the doors to the balcony. “It’s so far away from everything.”

“Because I get twice the amount of space out here for the same amount of money.”

“I think it’s so you have an excuse not to date people in the city.”

Arthur laughed, sitting down on the sofa and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “You think I spent all that time and money moving just so I didn’t have to date?”

“Maybe not consciously, but I think the thought was there.”

Arthur shook his head. His whole life did not revolve around dating. Speaking of, he’d stopped by the office earlier to the ever-growing pile of papers on his desk and the constant dinging of his email on his phone, and had brought some of it home. He’d been spending so much time (too much time, his brain chimed in) at the hospital he hadn’t gotten much done this week.

It would be over soon, though. Merlin would be released in a few days and that would be that.

Arthur tried not to think of what he was going to say when it came time to say goodbye, if he even wanted to.

“Is that why you brought me a pie?” he asked. “Because you think I’m lonely out here?”

Gwen frowned, taking the chair and pushing back her curls. “There’s not much takeout this far from town,” she pointed out. “Someone has to make sure you eat.”

Arthur was reminded of what Merlin had said about needing someone to take care of him.

“I can take care of myself.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to,” Gwen replied simply. “Sometimes it’s nice to let other people do things for you.”

Arthur didn’t reply. He gazed out the window instead at the grey clouds, a shimmer of snow gathering on the balcony railing.

“So how’s Merlin doing?” Gwen asked after a minute. “Shouldn’t he be going home soon?”

“They did the surgery today. Gwaine says he should go home in a couple days.”

Gwen watched him for a minute. “So what are you going to do once he gets out of the hospital? Are you going to keep seeing him?”

“I’m not seeing him now.”

“Exactly,” she said, like it was somehow significant. 

Arthur frowned. “I know what you’re thinking, Gwen, and no, it’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?” she asked simply. “It seems like you like him. What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong with him.” Arthur frowned. He didn’t need to explain why he and Merlin weren’t going to happen. “I just know that it wouldn’t work out.”

“You haven’t even asked him out and you’re already thinking about breaking up,” she said, indignant. “You can’t possibly know what’s going to happen.”

“I do know,” Arthur replied. “Because it’s what always happens. Someone cheats or you eventually realize you can’t stand the way they chew their food or they think UKip is the answer to all our problems. It always ends the same.”

Gwen looked offended. “It’s not _always_ going to end like that. Someday, you’re going to find someone whose little quirks you find endearing instead of annoying, or even if they are annoying, you just don’t care. You overlook it because you love them, and it doesn’t matter how they chew their food. But you won’t find them if you sabotage it before it even starts.”

Arthur had heard this lecture a thousand times before, and it hadn’t changed his mind then and it didn’t now.

“You want me to call you an Uber back home?”

Gwen frowned in reply. “I’ll do it myself,” she said at length, pushing herself up from the chair. “And don’t forget to put that pie in the fridge if you’re not going to eat it.”

She let herself out and Arthur sighed into the silence of his large, empty apartment. Arthur knew how it ended, how it would end with Merlin, no matter what Gwen said.

*

Despite his better judgment, Arthur found himself at the hospital the following morning, this time in a new room, a recovery room that had a larger window and a chair that was just as uncomfortable as the last one.

“What I wouldn’t give for food that isn’t jell-o and mashed peas,” Merlin said, pulling a face and setting the tray aside. “Don’t they have kebabs here?”

“Hospital food is notoriously bad,” Arthur pointed out and Merlin groaned. 

“Should have thought of that before I crossed the street, huh?”

“On the bright side, you’ll get to go home soon.”

Tomorrow, in fact. Tomorrow, Merlin was supposed to go back to his flat, back to his life, and Arthur would go back to his. Without Merlin waiting on the corner with his skinny jeans and ugly scarf.

“I suppose,” Merlin said with a shrug. He glanced at Arthur, and seemed to be debating whether or not to say something, but as he opened his mouth, the door behind Arthur opened. “Mum?”

“Merlin!” A woman with lines around her eyes and streaks of grey in her brown hair hurried towards him, hugging him tightly while Merlin just looked confused.

“Mum, what are you doing here?” he asked, concerned as he forced her back from him. “I told you not waste the money—”

“Shush,” she hushed him gently but firmly and Merlin frowned. “I got a call yesterday from a very nice gentleman offering to bring me here.” She glanced at Arthur, who knew Merlin was staring at him, but he avoided his gaze. “You must be Arthur.”

“Yes, Mrs—”

“Call me Hunith,” she interrupted, ignoring his outstretched hand and pulling him into an unexpected hug. Arthur had no choice but to hug her back, catching Merlin’s gaze, the edge of his lips lifted into a disbelieving smile, eyes soft. Arthur looked away as Hunith pulled back. “Merlin’s lucky you’re here with him.”

“Mum,” Merlin interrupted with a look as she turned to him.

“If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t even be here,” she said firmly. “Since my own son wouldn’t let me come.”

“You don’t have the mo—” Merlin started to say, but Hunith cut him off with a raised hand.

“Now that I am here, though, and I see you’re doing fine, I’ll need the keys to your flat.”

“What? Why?” Merlin asked, almost exasperated.

“Because I know you probably haven’t cleaned it since you moved in. Plus you’ll need food when you get home, and I’m assuming you don’t have any clean clothes here? You don’t want to wear the hospital gown home, do you?”

Merlin couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and Arthur found it all very amusing. He tried to school the smile off his face when Merlin glanced his way.

“Mum, you really don’t have to,” he said, but even Arthur knew it was in vain.

“I’m your mother,” she corrected him. “I get to take care of you.”

Merlin sighed. “The keys are in my jacket pocket.” He nodded at the jacket folded neatly on the opposite table.

She pulled them out and pressed a kiss to the top of Merlin’s head. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t,” Merlin replied, and hesitated as she headed for the door. “Mum,” he said and she turned. “I missed you.”

She smiled, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. “I’ll get you the good dish soap.”

The door swung shut behind her, and Merlin’s eyes moved to Arthur.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, and Arthur could only shrug.

“If I was in the hospital, and my parents were still alive, I’d want them there.”

Merlin only gazed at him, and Arthur felt that annoying flutter in his stomach again, but it was different this time, rising up into his chest, a lump forming in his throat.

“I’m really glad I met you, Arthur,” Merlin said, and Arthur couldn’t reply, could only nod, and hope this feeling would go away before it took him over completely.

*

“Today’s the day, isn’t it?” Morgana asked, sweeping into the break room where Arthur was considering drowning himself in his coffee.

“Sorry?”

Morgana grabbed the pot and a mug. “Merlin’s going home today, isn’t he?”

Arthur grunted in reply. He hadn’t decided if he wanted to go see him today, one last time. He was worried what he might do, what he might say, if he could let go of Merlin the way he needed to. A clean break.

“Please tell me you’re not going to sit around the office all day moping about it?” she asked, stirring in a sugar packet to her coffee. 

“What makes you think I’m moping?”

“You’ve been sitting in here for ten minutes, and I suspect it’s not just to avoid reading Leon’s mortgage report.”

Arthur wasn’t moping. He was debating, considering, wondering.

Arthur already knew how things would go with Merlin. They’d get on for a few months, until Merlin got tired of him, annoyed with the way Arthur took his work home with him, worked on the weekends, didn’t eat enough vegetables, preferred to take an Uber to the tube. Whatever stupid reason.

Then it would be over and Arthur would be alone again. He didn’t need that rollercoaster of emotions for the hundredth time in his life, and Merlin had enough stress with his recovery to be worrying about that.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Morgana said, taking the seat across from him at the small round table that took up most of the break room, “it doesn’t justify not saying goodbye.”

Arthur hated that she was right.

“I’ll go say goodbye,” he allowed finally. “That’s all.”

“That’s all,” she agreed. “And don’t forget the macarons this time.”

She left him at the table and Arthur tapped his fingers on the wood. He had to at least say goodbye. He owed Merlin, and himself, that much.

*

Merlin was already in the wheelchair by the time Arthur arrived at the hospital. He had his motorcycle jacket on, the hideous scarf wrapped around his neck, but his jeans were gone, replaced with very baggy sweatpants. Gwaine was there, handing Merlin the clipboard to sign something, but Merlin was distracted as Arthur entered.

“Hey,” he greeted him, eagerly, and Arthur felt, if anything, worse. “Wasn’t sure you were going to come today.”

“It’s your last day,” Arthur said, awkward again, like the first time.

“You’re all set,” Gwaine said, interrupting the awkward silence. “Remember to look both ways before you cross the street, even if you have the right-of-way. Some drivers are assholes.”

Merlin smiled. “I will never forget that again.”

“Alright,” Gwaine said cheerfully, clapping Arthur on the back as he left. “I’ll leave you in Arthur’s capable hands. And don’t forget I’m taking you out to a pub as soon as you graduate to crutches.”

Merlin nodded, and Gwaine winked at both of them as he vanished through the door. With Gwaine gone, Arthur felt it again, the unnerving tension, the desire welling up inside him to tell Merlin that he liked him. He shoved it down, though.

“How are you getting back to your flat?” he asked instead of saying any of the thoughts swirling around in his brain.

“Don’t think I’m quite brave enough to try the tube in a wheelchair yet, so I’ll have to call a cab.”

Morgana’s voice echoed in Arthur’s brain— _Offer him a ride, you dolt!_ —except that she wouldn’t say dolt.

“I could take you,” Arthur said before he could stop himself, not missing the way Merlin’s face lit up in a smile, as though he’d hoped Arthur might say that.

Arthur didn’t know what was wrong with him. This was supposed to be easy. A hello, goodbye, it was nice meeting you, see you never.

Moving behind Merlin, Arthur forced himself to shut his mouth as he grabbed the wheelchair handles and headed for the door. It felt weird to be out of the room with Merlin, as though everything had revolved around that bed for the past week. What were they without it?

It was harder than Arthur thought, getting Merlin into the car when he couldn’t bend his leg. Eventually, they scooted Merlin into the back seat, his leg propped on the rest of the seat.

“I feel like you’re my chauffeur,” Merlin joked as Arthur pulled out of the parking lot.

Merlin’s apartment wasn’t too far from the place he’d been hit, and Arthur tried to keep the conversation light as they drove, but he couldn’t stop the thoughts from creeping into his brain, the unease as they neared Merlin’s flat, knowing what he was about to do. Logically, he knew it was the right thing to do, to save them both unnecessary stress and pain, but his heart seemed to think differently, beating faster when Merlin laughed and smiled at him in the mirror.

“Here we are,” Arthur said with relief as they pulled up to Merlin’s building. It wasn’t a very tall building, older and slightly crumbling, but there was a handicap rail that he pushed Merlin up. Inside, the hall had been redone, tiles shiny underfoot, lights bouncing off them.

“I’m on the fifth floor,” Merlin said as they entered the elevator. It was a tiny elevator and it jerked upward, gears grating.

Arthur had to do it. He had to do it, he kept telling himself as Merlin stopped him at number five-oh-seven and fumbled with his keys, having to reach up to reach the lock.

Inside, the apartment that greeted them was tiny, smaller even than Gwen and Morgana’s place, a studio-type flat with the living room and bedroom all the same, a minuscule kitchen and a window looking out onto a brick building and a parking lot. It appeared to have been cleaned, probably by Merlin’s mum the other day. There were even fresh flowers on the counter, taking up valuable space.

Merlin wheeled himself in, turning when Arthur didn’t follow, lingering by the door.

“You want to come in?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Arthur shook his head. “I have to get back to work.”

“Okay,” Merlin agreed, watching him closely.

Arthur hesitated, glancing anywhere but at Merlin. “I’ll see you around,” he said at length, straightening up at the door. “Try not to get run over by anymore cars.”

Merlin blinked slowly, chewing on his bottom lip and opening his mouth to say something, but Arthur didn’t let him, taking a step back.

“Bye, Merlin,” he said, forcing himself to turn, to head for the stairs, but he didn’t miss the quiet, “Bye?” from behind him.

He didn’t stop walking until he was back at his car where he closed his eyes for a second and took a breath. There, it was over. He and Merlin wouldn’t have a shot at fucking it up. So why did he feel so bad?

Yanking open his door, Arthur slid in the car and drove away without looking back. It was over.

*

Leon’s mortgage report was dry, but that wasn’t what kept Arthur from concentrating as he tried to read it. It had been more than a couple days since he’d left Merlin at his flat without barely so much as a goodbye. He couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment somehow, as though despite the fact that he knew better, he shouldn’t have left things that way.

“You’re coming over for dinner tonight,” Morgana said as she swept into his office like she owned the place. She did own half, admittedly.

“I don’t even get the courtesy of an invitation?” Arthur asked. “You just assume I’m free?”

“It’s not like you have a date with Merlin,” she said, and that hurt more than he expected. “So you’re coming, and for the last time, remember the macarons.”

Arthur wasn’t going to ask Morgana what she thought about the whole situation. He needed to forget about it, forget about Merlin and move on with his life.

“Any particular flavor?” he asked, giving in.

“Raspberry for Gwen, and get a few of the pistachio-flavored ones.” Morgana stepped towards the door, pausing as she reached it. “You shouldn’t beat yourself up over this. It’s not like we had good relationship examples as children.”

Arthur frowned after her. He didn’t like to blame his problems on Uther, but he had a sneaking suspicion this one might have a bit to do with him.

Shaking the thought from his head, Arthur returned to the report and pushed any thoughts of Merlin away.

*

Gwen had tactfully not mentioned Merlin all evening, though Arthur suspected she was thinking about it every time she looked at him.

The small table was cluttered with too much food for three people, and Arthur was sure she’d force him to take some home later. Morgana sipped her wine and listened attentively to Gwen describing the clients she was working with.

“Maybe you should use your skills to plan Arthur the perfect wedding,” Morgana said over her glass.

Arthur shot her a look but Gwen merely shook her head.

“No, I stopped trying to plan that a long time ago.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked. 

Gwen shrugged. “When you were with Cedric, it was going to be an outdoor ceremony, on horseback.” Arthur stared at her but she went on. “Gilly was going to be by the lake in the park, with white ribbons and tulle on all the trees. Ewan had the best one, though. In the church out by the old cemetery, in the summer, the doors open, both of you in white suits, the best men with ocean-blue ties. The string quartet would play Pachobel’s Canon as you walked down the aisle.”

Arthur couldn’t believe Gwen had thought all that through, with every single one of his boyfriends.

“No wedding for Valiant?” he asked, and Gwen made a face that was echoed by Morgana.

“Valiant didn’t deserve a fantasy wedding,” Morgana said with a sneer.

“How long have you been planning my non-existent wedding?”

Gwen didn’t look guilty. “It’s what I do. I’ve just been waiting for you to find the right groom for my scenarios.”

“Well, you’re going to keep waiting,” Arthur said, reaching for his glass. He had no intention of getting married any time soon.

“We certainly are,” Gwen muttered, but Arthur didn’t ask. He didn’t want to ask. He knew exactly what she was thinking. She hadn’t even met Merlin, for Christ’s sake.

Morgana moved her glance from Gwen to Arthur. “I was thinking we should make a trip to the coast this summer,” she said, and Arthur wondered when she had become the mediator. “We haven’t been in years.”

“Not since we sold the beach house,” Arthur replied, not that he’d ever really enjoyed going there as a kid except that Uther usually spent the whole time holed up in the office and he could do whatever he wanted. It had usually involved snogging the bloke who worked in the ice cream shop during the summers.

“Or we could just go to the country house,” Morgana suggested. “Actually ride the horses out there for once.”

Arthur didn’t chime in, finishing his glass of wine and pouring himself another. He wasn’t thinking about summer, which seemed so far away at the moment. Instead, he was thinking about Merlin curled up in his tiny flat, snow gathering on the window as the radiator gurgled in the corner, sipping a mug of steaming tea. He caught himself wishing he was there instead of here as Morgana and Gwen discussed the benefits of the country versus the coast. That was no way to get over this.

*

For once, Arthur wasn’t surprised when Gwaine turned up at the pub with Percy, squeezing into the seat next to Arthur. He was more surprised that after two weeks, Gwaine hadn’t moved on from Percy. They seemed happy, though, smiling easily at each other.

Arthur wondered, as Gwaine laughed at something Leon said, if he’d seen Merlin, if he’d lived up to his promise to become friends with him. He wasn’t sure how good Gwaine was at follow-through. He couldn’t ask, though. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Merlin.

“How’s work?” Arthur asked Gwaine when Leon went to get another round and Percy was scrolling through his emails.

Gwaine shrugged around his pint. “People get sick, we make them better.”

“No dramatic stories to tell?”

Gwaine laughed. “It’s not Grey’s Anatomy, mate. We have real work to do.”

Arthur nodded, clearing his throat and glancing across the pub to where Leon was gathering pints. God, he just wanted to ask Gwaine how Merlin was, but he didn’t. It was getting harder and harder to remember why he’d thought this was a good idea.

For a moment, no one spoke, but Arthur’s thoughts couldn’t be drowned out by the clinking of glasses, the loud chatter from other tables, the vague John Mellencamp song playing in the background.

“Merlin’s asked about you,” Gwaine said as Leon returned and passed the pints around.

Arthur looked up, surprised. “He has?”

“No, because you’re a wanker,” Gwaine replied, a little more bluntly than Arthur was used to from him.

Frowning, Arthur took the glass Leon passed him. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised.

“He’s doing okay, you know,” Gwaine said when Arthur didn’t reply. “Finally onto the crutches, back in class. I taught him a safer way to campus.”

“I don’t care,” Arthur said even though it was a bald-faced lie.

“Bullocks,” Gwaine said obviously. “But I’m not going to tell you what you should do, which is go over to his flat and grovel for his forgiveness for being such a prat—”

“I didn’t do anything,” Arthur protested, wondering why he was arguing about this with Gwaine, of all people.

Gwaine scoffed. “You spent every day for an entire week with him, then you don’t call to even see if he’s okay.”

“It’s better that way,” Arthur muttered, though he didn’t have to justify anything to Gwaine.

“For who exactly?” Gwaine shook his head, finishing what was left of his first pint. “I won’t pretend to understand your reasons, but if you like someone, I don’t see why you would cause yourself more trouble by ignoring it.”

“I’m not sure I like being mates with you,” he said and Gwaine shrugged.

Arthur considered for a brief moment explaining to Gwaine exactly why it was better this way, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not when his chest ached at the thought of Merlin all alone in his flat, wondering what was wrong with him, why Arthur had been such a jerk.

Jesus, he had been a prat. He’d let Merlin in then promptly shoved him away. All because he’d never had a good, long-lasting relationship? Okay, so that wasn’t exactly a bad reason, but Gwaine (he hated to admit it) had a point. And so did Gwen and Morgana, though he’d never admit it to their faces. He was just tired of the same ending over and over again.

Merlin could be different, though. He hadn’t met him at a pub or a party or on an app. Maybe Arthur had been too quick to let his brain take over the transaction. He tended to do that.

“Hey, where are you going?” Leon asked as Arthur struggled out of his chair, not looking at Gwaine for what would probably be a self-satisfied smirk.

“I just remembered something I have to do, for work,” he said, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on.

“Wait, what thing?” Leon called after him, but Arthur had already plunged into the crowd. Outside, it was bitterly cold tonight, and Arthur cursed himself for leaving his car parked at the office. He didn’t want to take the time to walk back to get it, so he flagged down a passing cab.

The whole way, Arthur felt antsy, his knee shaking, nervous, a little worried if he was honest. At the crumbling building, Arthur stood in front of it for a long moment. Should he really be doing this? What if Merlin said no, after all that?

He’d never know if he didn’t ask, he reminded himself firmly. That was his problem, planning out the endings before things even started. He blamed Uther and his ‘focus on your end goals’ speech he used to give. As if how he got there wasn’t as or more important.

The door opened as someone came out, and it was now or never. Arthur caught the door, slipping inside and climbing up to the fifth floor. At Merlin’s door, he hesitated again, his heart beating a frantic rhythm in his chest as he forced himself to raise his hand and knock.

It took several minutes but the door opened finally and Merlin stood there, propped up on crutches, wearing a baggy shirt and the same sweat pants Arthur had left him with. On his face, he work a pair of black-rimmed square glasses and Arthur had to stop himself from staring, especially when Merlin frowned.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, not inviting Arthur in quite yet.

“I wasn’t going to come back,” Arthur said before he could stop his mouth, and Merlin’s frown deepened. This wasn’t going well. “Not because I didn’t want to. Because I did.”

Merlin shook his head. “I don’t understand. Are you married? Do you have two kids and a dog out in the country?”

“No,” Arthur said, taking a breath. “I’ve just had some really bad relationships lately. The past couple years. Basically my whole life. I thought it would be better if we just skipped all that, you know, skipped to the end where we break up and never want to see each other again.”

Merlin paused, forehead creased as he watched Arthur. He pushed his sliding glasses up his nose and Arthur had to look away, down at Merlin’s feet. His socks were covered with tiny kittens and Arthur sighed so he wouldn’t smile absurdly.

“Wouldn’t that have worked better if we’d actually gone out first?” Merlin asked finally and Arthur shrugged.

“Maybe,” he allowed.

He wasn’t sure if Merlin was going to forgive him for acting like such an idiot, if he really deserved to be forgiven. But at least he was here, trying, giving it a shot. The worst he could say was no and they’d be exactly where they’d started.

“So,” Merlin said after a minute of silence, “when are you finally going to ask me out?”

Arthur lifted his head from Merlin’s socks, to his eyes behind his glasses. There was a quirk to the corner of Merlin’s mouth, tempered only by the slight hesitance in his gaze, as though he wasn’t sure Arthur was going to do it.

The bubble of tension that had been rising in his chest burst as he smiled at Merlin and he felt nothing but relief and hope for the first time in a long time. “I was thinking maybe, if you’re available, I could make you dinner sometime.”

Merlin’s smile grew wider. “But you don’t cook.”

“Never too late to learn,” Arthur offered, “if you have someone to impress.”

Merlin took a hobbling step forward on his crutches. He was a few inches shorter than Arthur, and Arthur realized he’d never been this close to Merlin while standing.

“You don’t have to impress me, Arthur,” Merlin said, pushing his glasses back up, and Arthur smiled, leaning into him.

“Maybe I want to,” he said as he kissed Merlin. He heard a clatter as Merlin let go of one of his crutches to slide his hand into Arthur’s hair and kiss back.

It was everything Arthur had been imagining, and better at the same time. Merlin’s lips were soft and gentle, molding to his as they stood partially in the hallway, and Arthur tilted Merlin’s head to the side as he kissed him again. This could be the beginning of something beautiful, and even if it wasn’t, at least they would enjoy it while it lasted.

*

FIN.

**Author's Note:**

> Um, there's a coda/sequel too: [A Good Fight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13303080)


End file.
